The gavel struck the mahogany stand, not with the dry thud of justice, but with the final, sickening finality of a guillotine blade hitting the floor.

"Move away from the bag, kid," the hitman growled, his gun leveled directly at Leo’s chest. "Maroni wants his property back. The ledger. Now."

Leo’s hands shook as he gripped the Glock. He had never held a real gun before. It felt unnaturally heavy, a piece of cold death in his palm. "If you kill me, my brother will destroy you."

The hitman laughed, a dry, raspy sound. "Your brother is a dead man walking. He’s being transferred to Blackgate Penitentiary tonight. The guards on that bus work for us. He’ll be a suicide statistic before sunrise."

Panic flared in Leo’s chest, sharp and agonizing. Silas was being moved tonight. He was out of time.

"Now," the hitman stepped closer, reaching for the ledger. "Give me the book, and maybe I make this quick."

Leo didn't think. Instinct, raw and desperate, took over. He threw the heavy canvas duffel bag directly at the hitman's face. As the man flinched, firing a silenced shot into the ceiling, Leo tackled him around the waist.

They crashed into the glass coffee table, shattering it into a thousand jagged pieces. The hitman cursed, punching Leo brutally in the ribs. Leo gasped, the air leaving his lungs, but he refused to let go. He grabbed a heavy shard of glass from the carpet and drove it blindly into the hitman’s shoulder.

The man roared in pain, dropping his gun. Leo scrambled backward, bleeding from a cut on his cheek, and scooped up his Glock. He pointed it at the man, his finger trembling on the trigger.

"Get out," Leo screamed, his voice feral. "Tell Maroni I have the ledger! If anything happens to Silas on that bus, I leak it to the FBI, the press, and every rival cartel in the state!"